Tired Warrior
by Jordan Trevor
Summary: And in that way... the warrior began to know... the true meaning of peace.
1. Chapter 1

**Tired Warrior**

 **Author's Note:** This is just a little "beginning of a story" that I wrote before I started "Fall into Me." It has the same general idea – Chakotay recovering from an injury with Kathryn by his side. Since I've already written "Fall into Me," I'm not sure if this story will go any further, so I thought I'd post it as is. Thanks for reading!

* * *

On his first full duty day, he insisted on visiting almost every department, literally walking several miles through the ship. Neelix joined him for part of his journey. As morale officer, visiting the crew was one of his priorities as well, but he also knew that the captain would appreciate him keeping an eye on the first officer. She hadn't asked him to; in fact, she had not known they were together until the Doctor had sent her a memo telling her that they had stopped by sickbay. It was early in the day, and although Chakotay was holding up well at that point, she was pleased that Neelix was with him.

Four hours later she was relieved that the Talaxian had joined him when she received a two-word message from B'Elanna: "He's exhausted." And a few minutes later she saw for herself the evidence of that exhaustion as he stepped from the turbolift, leaning far more heavily on his cane than he had been when he left.

As he made his way down to the bridge's middle level, she could see the lines of pain etched around his eyes, creasing his tattoo. Her first instinct was to get up and take his arm, but she stopped herself, watching as he carefully maneuvered the steps down and then up. _Too many damn steps…_ His head was bent, eyes focused on the placement of his cane, each foot… slow and steady…

He crossed in front of her and turned. Bracing his cane firmly on the deck, he began to lower himself into his chair, reaching behind him with his left hand to press against the arm rest, supporting himself. Slowly he settled beside her, his left leg straight in front of him, his brace allowing only a slight bend at the knee. Exhaling a deep breath, a soft satisfied sigh, he glanced over at her, making eye contact for the first time.

She gave him a gentle smile, finally letting herself reach over and place a reassuring pat on his arm. She was rewarded with a dimpled grin.

"So, how's our ship, Commander?"

"Running smoothly, Captain. It seems everyone got along just fine without me."

She shook her head. "I wouldn't go that far. Tuvok did a fine job in your absence, but believe me, you were missed. I forget sometimes just how much you do for this crew."

He flashed her another grin. "Maybe I should put in for a raise."

"You could do that. But I'd have to go through official channels and submit your request to Starfleet. I'm afraid it might be sixty-five years before we get approval."

He grimaced slightly, playing along with the scenario. "In that case, I'll stick with the salary I have right now." He leaned closer to her chair. "And besides," he added quietly, glancing at the gold ring on his left hand, "the benefits have improved over the past year."

Kathryn couldn't help but laugh as she touched the ring on her own hand. "They have indeed," she agreed, her voice equally as soft. And then she straightened back, sitting more formally in her chair again. "I look forward to your report, Commander."

"Aye, Captain, I'll take care of it right away."

"There's no rush. Tomorrow morning will be soon enough. In fact, if you don't mind, I have a few reports of my own to take care of. If you'll take the bridge?"

"Of course," he confirmed.

And she noted the satisfied expression on his face. She sensed that he wanted to spend some time on the bridge, reestablishing his place and command. He'd spent too much time off duty, and perhaps, too much time with her in the past few weeks. He needed time on his own.

"I'll be in my ready room," she announced, rising from her chair. "The bridge is yours, Commander Chakotay."

~vVv~

She spent the next several hours finishing up reports and then finding other tasks to occupy her time. She resisted checking in with Chakotay, not wanting him to think that she was hovering. If she were needed, she was just a comm link away. And she wouldn't be needed. For weeks now, they'd been traveling through an especially calm area of the Delta Quadrant. And she'd been grateful for that. The lack of distractions, emergencies, and hostile situations had allowed her time to spend with Chakotay during his recovery.

~vVv~

When the end of alpha shift arrived, she stayed in her ready room just a little bit longer, giving Chakotay time to hand over command to Tuvok for the evening shift and then make it back to their quarters. Although they'd arrived on the bridge together that morning, she decided to let him leave without her. He'd put in a full day's work and didn't need his wife to emerge from her ready room, pick him up, and take him home. He could get there on his own.

Still, though, she couldn't deny that she was eager to get there as well, and thoughts of her husband were on her mind as she passed through the bridge on the way to the turbolift,

"Captain, the commander transferred command to me precisely seven minutes ago. All systems are presently running at top efficiency."

Kathryn nodded. "Thank you, Lieutenant. Have a pleasant evening, and keep me informed."

"Yes, Captain."

Less than five minutes later, she was keying in the entry code to their quarters, and when the door slid open, she couldn't help but smile at the sight that greeted her.

He'd made it home.

His boots and socks lay on the floor directly in front of her, and he was collapsed in the nearest chair, his head leaning back, eyes closed. She stepped inside, allowing the door to close behind her. Skirting around the boots and socks, she went over and knelt in front of him, one hand reaching up to caress his forehead, lovingly tracing the lines of his tattoo. Her angry warrior was tired.

"You still awake?" she asked, and watched as the corners of his mouth drew up slightly.

"Just barely." Sleepy eyes opened and she leaned into him, pressing her lips to his.

He returned the kiss, but then shook his head slightly. "Don't tease an exhausted man. I don't think I can take you up on any invitations tonight."

She smiled and drew back. "That wasn't an invitation. Just a promise."

He raised an eyebrow. "Rain check?"

"Always," she assured as her hands unfastened the front of his uniform jacket. "Let's get you out of this and into something more comfortable."

He sighed. "I tried to get out of this, but I could only manage the boots and socks."

"You can always manage the boots and socks, Barefoot Boy." She pulled his jacket off and laid it on the coffee table behind her.

Chakotay laughed. "Where do you get these nicknames?"

Kathryn grinned as she ran her hands down his sides. "They just come to me." Her right hand stopped on top of his left thigh. "How's the leg?"

"Not bad. A little stiff."

"Taking that brace off will help," she suggested, reaching up and unhooking his uniform pants. He shifted in the chair as she gently tugged the black cloth down his legs, and then watched as she proceeded to unstrap the Velcro closures on the brace that covered his left leg from upper thigh to just above his ankle.

"Oh, Chakotay," she murmured as she drew the brace away and saw the chafing above his knee. His skin was rough and red with pressure marks.

"It doesn't really hurt," he deflected.

"Still, though…" She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the reddened areas, raining soft kisses on his skin.

"Kathryn…" he groaned her name, running his hand through her hair. "Remember… no invitations."

She looked up and drew away from him. "Sorry." Standing she reached down and picked up his pants. "Can you manage your shirt while I go grab your pajamas?"

"Wouldn't that require me to raise my arms? Above my head?"

He stared up at her with a pitiful look that managed to do exactly what he intended. She took pity on him and pulled the shirt off over his head, causing his hair to stand on end. Then she stepped back and enjoyed the view for a few moments: the man she loved in standard issue Starfleet briefs and nothing else.

"You are a sight for sore eyes," she sighed.

He eyed her warily. "Remember… sore leg."

"All right. Rain check, promise, a bowl of soup, and bed… in that order."

"We could probably throw another kiss and a cuddle in there somewhere," he added, trying to raise his eyebrows suggestively but failing. Even the muscles in his face were tired.

"Or I could bypass everything and just put you to bed." Her words hovered somewhere between a statement and a question.

And he agreed, on one stipulation. "As long as you join me." He gazed up at her, eyes bright and expectant.

She nodded, reached down and picked up his cane from the floor beside the chair, pressed it into his right hand. Then, wrapping her fingers around his left arm, she gently pulled, helping him stand. He leaned heavily against her, and they made a slow trek into the next room.

"Pajamas?" she questioned.

"Just bed."

And she deposited him on the edge, a sitting position that didn't last long. He fell back, head hitting the pillow, and she lifted his legs onto the mattress.

"I think I'll opt for a nightgown."

He watched her through half-closed eyes. "Or just less uniform," he suggested.

She smiled slightly. "I thought you were sore and tired."

A gentle shake of his head. "Not too sore and tired to hold you."

And she knew what he wanted. The two of them, together, skin on skin. "All right," she murmured, heading into the bathroom. "I'll be right back."

A few minutes later, Kathryn slid into bed beside her husband. Careful of his left side, she wrapped her arms and legs around the warm bulk of his body, settled her head on his chest, the beating of his heart steady and solid against her cheek. His eyes were closed, and she thought he'd fallen asleep until she felt the slow glide of his hand along her shoulder, down her side, to her hip.

She'd opted for nothing, and the gentle smile that lifted the corners of his lips into the dimples that she loved signaled his approval.

"I love you," he breathed, pulling her closer.

"I love you." She pressed her lips softly to his chest - a kiss; strengthened her hold on him – a cuddle.

Then, closing her eyes, she followed her tired warrior into sleep.

~vVv~


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** I thought this story was simply going to be a one-shot – a slice, a snippet, over, done, as is. And then I got a guest review that said, "Fuels my imagination about what brought them to this point in their story." Well, that fueled my imagination, too. So I thought I'd try writing the story backwards – a concept I've never even thought about. I know I have other stories that need new chapters, but I'm just going to follow where my writing muse leads – and enjoy the journey along the way! Thanks for reading! And thanks to the guest who posted the review! JT

* * *

The day before…

She watched as he traversed the length of their quarters from the bedroom door to the opposite wall and back again. Twice she'd almost jumped up to steady him, stop him from falling, especially on the turns. Both times, he'd managed to keep his balance and cast a withering glare in her direction which kept her pinned to her position, seated on the sofa, feet propped on the coffee table, glass of wine in one hand.

He continued his self-imposed trek, leaning heavily on his cane, knuckles white with the pressure of a tight fist wrapped around the handle.

"It doesn't have to be tomorrow," she said, not for the first time. "It's too soon. And the Doctor agrees."

He shook his head, rounding the dining table and heading back in her direction. "It's been too long," he insisted.

She rolled her eyes, took a sip of her wine, and sighed. "It's only been two weeks. Have you forgotten the number of bones you broke? And the fact that your leg…" Her voice trailed off, remembering the worst of his injuries: his left leg had been completely crushed under the weight of the bulkhead; even with his advanced medical expertise, it was a miracle that the Doctor had been able to save it. And now, for him to be up and walking after only two weeks, was another miracle.

But miracles didn't need to be pushed, especially not to the extent that he'd been pushing himself in the past few days.

"My leg is still there," Chakotay shot back, that damned bull-headed expression steeling his features into hard planes and angles. In the past two weeks, he'd literally fought his way back every step of the way, and now he was prepared to dig in his heels and return to work.

Kathryn returned his stubborn gaze with one of her own. Two could play at this game. "It's the Doctor's recommendation that you take another few days before returning to duty."

Chakotay stopped and leaned against the back of a chair, picked up on her wording. "Recommendation… not order."

She saw the look in his eyes – the realization. If the Doctor wasn't making it an order, then the decision, as his commanding officer, was up to her.

"You know I can do this, Kathryn."

"Chakotay…" She hesitated.

"I'm not asking to go on an away mission." He lowered himself into the chair across from her and leaned forward. "I'll tour the departments, get up to speed on what I've missed, and sit on the bridge for a while."

And Kathryn heard in the tone of his voice the one word he had not said, the word she knew he wouldn't say – at least, not out loud.

 _Please._

First officer and captain, husband and wife. For almost a year, they had managed to keep a balance, a give and take, both in and out of the command structure.

Kathryn wouldn't upset that balance now.

She pulled her feet off the coffee table, sat up, reached a hand over to him. He closed his hand around hers, warm and solid… and strong.

She gave him a soft smile, the one she reserved for her husband. "I suggest we eat some dinner and get to bed." And then, a quick, sharp nod of her head – captain to commander. "Alpha shift comes early."

~vVv~


	3. Chapter 3

Five days before that…

She walked behind him, pushing an anti-grav chair. He walked ahead, leaning heavily on the crutches under his arms, his gait slow and measured. Even without seeing his face, she knew that every step tightened the lines around his eyes and mouth, caused him to grit his teeth and hold his breath. Every few seconds, she could see his shoulders hitch as he pulled in another lungful of air, pushing it out as he pushed his left foot forward, bringing the right up to meet it and then repeating the action – over and over, all the way from Sickbay. He'd insisted on walking, refused to sit in the chair, like a toddler refusing to stay in a stroller.

As they rounded a corner, he stumbled, the right crutch falling from under his arm, his free hand reaching out and bracing against the wall. Kathryn moved to grab him, but somehow he stayed steady, stood, head bowed, breathing in and out, regaining his balance.

Kathryn sighed. "Sit in the chair, Chakotay."

He shook his head. "Get me the crutch."

"Chakotay…"

"Damn it! Get me the crutch, Kathryn."

The words were sharp and they stung, but only for a moment. He was tired and in pain. And frustrated. Kathryn knew there was no reasoning with him when he got like this.

A bull-headed toddler.

She leaned over, retrieved the crutch, placed it back under his arm.

He looked up. "I'm sorry," he breathed, eyes glassy with unshed tears of anger and remorse.

"It's all right." She held her hand to his cheek, felt the heat of his frustration. "We're almost home."

And it would be good to get there. He'd been in Sickbay for a little over a week, but it seemed longer. For the first few days, she'd stayed with him around the clock: holding his hand, bathing his face and body with a cool cloth, whispering stories into his ear that she wasn't sure he understood, or even heard. And then, when he was truly awake and aware, she'd read to him, fed him his favorite foods, assured him that he would get better, convincing herself as she was convincing him.

When his therapy increased, and he was working more and sleeping more, she'd gone back to the bridge, meeting him for lunch and dinner, and then staying through the evening until he fell asleep.

Now, Tom and the Doctor would come to him, continuing his therapy in their quarters. And when they weren't with him, someone would be. She and the Doctor had arranged a schedule of caregivers to look after him while she was on duty.

"Babysitters," Chakotay had complained earlier that morning, unknowingly giving birth to Kathryn's toddler analogy.

She'd stared back at him, one hard, unyielding glare to another, and explained, "I'm not leaving you alone. Not yet. You tire easily, you won't stay in the anti-grav chair, and you're not steady on your feet."

"You're saying you don't trust me." His gaze held an accusation.

"Oh, I trust you – as my loving husband and a loyal first officer, but as a patient patient… no."

He'd groaned and grumbled for another half minute, then grudgingly conceded. When Kathryn Janeway made up her mind, he knew, from many years of experience, there was very little chance of changing it.

~vVv~


	4. Chapter 4

Four days past…

"You're gonna to have to put some weight on it." The voice was tinged with slight exasperation.

"It's easy for you to say, Paris," the other voice hissed back. "It's not your damn leg!"

When she heard him call Tom by his last name, she suspected that he wasn't in a good mood. For half a second, she considered turning around and escaping before the sickbay doors closed behind her. But it was too late. The Doctor had already spotted her from his office, nodded his head, and motioned for her to join him.

The two men on the other side of the room had their backs turned to her, so they were oblivious to her presence. Sensing that it was better that way for now, she quietly made her way into the inner room.

The Doctor indicated the chair across from his desk with another nod of his head, and Kathryn sank into it. "Not a good morning, I take it," she said by way of greeting.

"To say the least." He rolled his eyes toward the exam room. "That was one of his… less colorful expletives."

Kathryn sighed and looked out the office window, could see Chakotay seated on the edge of the bed, his back stiff and unyielding. Even from this distance, she could tell that his shoulder muscles were tense and drawn, outlined and knotted tightly under the blue sickbay gown.

The Doctor continued. "Our first officer usually has patience with every member of this crew, but absolutely no patience with himself. And, at this moment, very little patience with Mister Paris, I might add."

Kathryn watched as Tom attempted to lift Chakotay's left leg, only to have his hands batted away with an impulsive swing of the older man's arm. "He hurts," she observed softly, aching for him, wanting so to ease the pain and frustration. "Perhaps he's pushing himself too hard."

"On the contrary… he's not pushing himself enough."

Surprised, Kathryn looked back.

"The leg is painful," the Doctor admitted. "I know that. Even with painkillers, I can't alleviate the discomfort altogether. But it's pain that he should be able to fight through… and he's not."

She drew in a deep breath, nodded in understanding, squared her shoulders slightly – a bit of resolve before going into battle. "I'll talk to him."

"Please do. Perhaps you can make an impact. Unfortunately, Mister Paris and I are getting nowhere with him."

Kathryn pushed herself up from the chair and went back into the exam room.

"Let me massage it some, Chakotay. It'll help."

"The hell it will!" he shot back.

Kathryn winced slightly at the sting of his words, and, upon reaching the biobed, she placed a hand on Tom's shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze of appreciation. "Thanks for your help this morning, but could you give me some time alone with my husband?"

"Of course, Captain." He stepped away. "He's all yours." Then he leveled his gaze at the man on the bed. "But I'll be back later this afternoon."

Chakotay exhaled a heavy breath and dropped his head, stared at the tops of his knees, not acknowledging Tom's words. Of course he'd be back – he and the Doctor kept coming back, no matter how hard he pushed.

Kathryn waited until the Sickbay doors closed behind the pilot, then reached out, touched Chakotay's chin, raised his face to hers. "He's just trying to help."

He shook his head, then pulled away, leaned back, swinging his right leg up onto the biobed. Wrapping his hands around his thigh, he lifted his left leg up next to it. He stared at her, and she saw the unspoken challenge in his eyes. He was waiting for her to say something more, something he could latch onto and push against – the way he'd pushed at Tom.

And Kathryn met the challenge. "The Doctor tells me you've been less than a stellar patient this morning."

"Doctor can go to hell," he grimaced, his expression set in hard lines.

She placed a hand lightly on his knee. "Chakotay…"

And with that one touch, his tension dissipated; she could feel it draining away, see the shadow that stole across his face and settled in his eyes, and hear the admission that slipped out with a heavy exhalation of breath. "I'm tired, Kathryn."

"I know." It was acknowledgement.

"What if I can't do it?" Followed by doubt.

"This doesn't sound like you." Delivered with a firm shake of her head.

"What if I'm not the man you thought you married?" Returned with another challenge – to agree, to deny, to step into or out of the next moment.

The hand on his knee tightened. "Whether you're striding across the bridge or lying here flat on your back, you will always be the man I married."

She'd stepped firmly into the moment, and he couldn't hold up under her gaze. Turning his head on the pillow, he looked away, stared at the opposite wall. The next words were a whisper. "It hurts."

"I know that, too… but I heard you earlier, with Tom. That's not pain talking. That's fear." She saw his upper body tense again, heard his breathing increase; she wanted to touch his face, turn him back to her, but she didn't – if she looked into his eyes, she'd lose her way, and she had to say what needed to be said. "It's all right to be afraid, Chakotay. But you can't let it stop you."

Her words hung in the air between them, like early morning mist on a winter's day, light, barely there, but cold against your skin. She wanted to take him in her arms, keep him safe, make him warm. But that's not what he needed.

"Now, do I call Tom back in here, or let you sit and sulk for a while?"

He looked back at her, and she knew that it had worked; she could see it in his eyes and the set of his jaw.

And he knew it had worked. He could see straight through her.

He always had.

A moment, a beat, then two…

His expression softened. The tightly held mouth relaxed. And it was there – the face of the man she'd first met all those years ago on Voyager's bridge, the angry Maquis warrior, who'd stood, holding his ground, and then conceding to her.

He'd told her once that he'd felt like a wild stallion, standing there beside her, proud but tired of roaming barren plains, exhausted by the endless battles. And in that moment, that first touch of her hand on his arm, she had gentled him and brought him home.

He knew she always would.

And he managed a half smile, a lifting of one side of his lips, that wry self-deprecating grin that she'd seen so often in their years together.

For a moment, he'd lost sight of the straight road, only to find it with her by his side.

"Get him back in here… before I change my mind."

Kathryn smiled, leaned over and kissed his cheek, whispered in his ear. "You don't change your mind… once you've made it up."

~vVv~


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

Two days back…

"It's mushroom soup. Neelix made it…especially for you." She held the spoon to his lips, but he looked away, staring at the wall beside his bed.

"Chakotay… You need to eat something."

He shook his head, still not looking at her. "I'm not hungry."

Kathryn suppressed a sigh, returned the spoon to the bowl, set it on the tray table beside her. She picked up his hand, held it between both of hers. He'd been awake for barely a day, having spent the previous two days sleeping, heavily sedated, allowing his body the rest that it needed to recover from his injuries. And despite his lack of appetite, he was already getting better: the color in his cheeks had returned, his breathing wasn't as labored, and he managed to stay awake for a few hours at a time

She noted the physical improvements, but emotionally, she wasn't sure. He was quiet, tired, unwilling or unable to talk about his accident. The Doctor said that he might not remember the details; it wasn't unusual for patients to experience some degree of post-traumatic amnesia following a severe head injury. And although the skull fracture had been healed and the pressure alleviated, his memory of the moments leading up to and following the explosion may never return.

Kathryn heard movement behind her, and looked over her shoulder, saw the Doctor approaching. He stopped beside the tray table, took note of the bowl of soup. "Ah, Commander, I see your wife has brought you dinner. It looks appetizing. I suggest you eat some of it. Build up your strength."

Chakotay turned tired eyes to the physician, released a heavy breath. "For what?"

"You'll begin therapy in the morning with Mister Paris."

Chakotay shook his head. "I can't even move my leg."

Kathryn heard the defeated tone in his voice, and she glanced over at the Doctor, could tell that he'd heard it, too.

But he didn't acknowledge it. "Perhaps not now. That's why I've arranged therapy." He moved to the end of the biobed, pushed back the blanket and, with sure hands, palpated the upper thigh of his left leg.

Chakotay drew in a sharp breath, and Kathryn felt the hand that she held clench into a fist.

The Doctor drew his hands away, realizing his patient's discomfort.

"Can you give him something more for the pain?" Kathryn asked.

But the Doctor shook his head. "I've given him as much as I can for right now." He looked at Chakotay. "I could sedate you again."

"No." The response came hard and fast. "I don't want to sleep."

And Kathryn understood. The day before, he'd literally fought his way back to consciousness, tossing and turning, calling out, wrestling nightmares, probably facing every enemy he'd encountered in the Delta Quadrant and those beyond: Kazon, Vidiian, Borg, Cardassian.

Battling demons in his dreams.

Kathryn smoothed her fingers over his hand, kneading the sharp, tense knuckles, white with pressure and pain. She felt him relax slightly, heard a soft exhalation of breath.

The Doctor returned to his exam, running a scanner over his lower leg, then looked up, an encouraging smile on his face. "Despite your pain, the bones have regenerated."

"What's left of them," Chakotay mumbled. He'd stayed awake long enough that morning to hear the list of his injuries and the measures the Doctor had taken to heal them. His leg was now more tritanium than bone.

"It's still your leg, Commander. And you'll be up and walking soon…maybe even tomorrow. Mister Paris is a more than adequate physical therapist. It seems that piloting a starship isn't his only talent."

Chakotay just scowled and turned his head away, closed his eyes.

Kathryn looked over at the Doctor. "Thank you. I'll try to get him to eat something."

"See that you do." He raised his voice slightly. "As I said, he'll need the strength. Mister Paris can be quite the taskmaster." With that, he left them, going back into his office.

Kathryn waited a few moments, then took a deep breath. "I know you're tired, and you hurt," she acknowledged, her hand still rubbing gently over his, "but the Doctor saved your life… I'm grateful for that."

Chakotay opened his eyes and gazed back at her, his lips pressed into a thin line. He sighed. "I'm sorry… I'll… I'll apologize to him."

The concerned expression on Kathryn's face softened. "It's all right. I think he understands." She reached up and gently stroked her fingers through his hair. There was still a slight bruise above his tattoo, the only remaining trace of his head injury. "Will you eat some soup? Neelix will be terribly disappointed if he discovers that you didn't at least try it."

Chakotay nodded, sat up a little more on the biobed. Kathryn picked up the bowl, dipped a spoonful of the flavorful soup, and held it to his lips again. This time he opened his mouth and allowed her to feed him. He swallowed, then managed a slight grin.

"I guess I can tell him you like it?"

"It's good. No leola root."

Kathryn smiled. "Another miracle." And lifting the spoon, she continued feeding the first one.

~vVv~


	6. Chapter 6

And another two days…

The deep cuts on his forehead and down behind his ear had been closed; the skull fracture repaired; the burns on his face, neck, and hands, had been healed; and his ribs and the bones in his left arm mended. The internal bleeding had been stopped, and the bruises across his chest and stomach were fading.

His left leg was covered by an osteoregenerator. The day before, surgery had lasted for almost five hours while the Doctor had pieced it back together with bits of bone and tritanium rods. It would take time, and therapy, and patience for it to knit completely.

He was in a deep drug-induced sleep, to counter the pain and keep him still and quiet, giving him rest to recover. A low-grade fever warmed his skin, but the Doctor wasn't concerned. His body was simply fighting off any residual infection.

He was healing.

The Doctor had suggested that Kathryn bathe his face and body with a cool cloth, easing the low heat of his fever. She didn't question his medical advice, more than willing to oblige, but suspected that the suggestion was more for her benefit than any therapeutic effect. The Doctor knew that she needed to touch him, needed to feel his body beneath her hands, warm, and solid, and alive.

All those times she had sent him on away missions before their marriage and after: the hesitancy, the fear that he might not return.

And out of all those situations, he'd been injured onboard, in the shuttle bay, when a power conduit had malfunctioned and exploded, bringing half the bulkhead down on top of him.

All the dangers of the Delta Quadrant, and he'd been hurt in their own backyard.

The heat of his body dried the cloth in her hand quickly, so she dipped it in the bowl of water, wetting it again, then touching it to his right shoulder, trying to avoid the mottled bruises that covered his chest and stomach. Occasionally, he would stir beneath her, and, at first, she was worried that she might be causing him further pain. Checking the monitors, the Doctor had assured her that she wasn't. Chakotay's body was simply reacting to her touch: sure, familiar, loving, the wetness of the cloth, cool and welcome on his skin.

She'd been with him since they'd beamed his body, broken, burned, and bleeding, to Sickbay. She'd watched as the Doctor had assessed his multiple injuries and then prepared him for surgery. Tom had tried to convince her to return to their quarters, but she'd stayed, on the far side of the exam room, watching them hover over the man she loved. She'd been frightened, but she had faith in the Doctor and in Tom: they would save Chakotay, bring him back, deliver him whole and complete into her hands.

And they had.

She moved the cloth lower, across his stomach, edging along the sheet that covered him to the waist. She smiled, remembering the first time she'd seen this broad expanse of bronzed skin – another time in Sickbay, when his bioneural energy had been extracted from his brain. It had been early in their journey, and yet, still, she'd felt a connection to him, as she had the first moment that she'd seen him, staring back at her from the _Val Jean_ , his face filling the viewscreen. And then, standing beside her on the bridge, his body rigid and unbending, the fire in his eyes a slow, smoldering flame, a heated gaze, quick to spark and burn.

A day later, he'd agreed to be her First Officer.

Ten months ago, she'd agreed to be his wife.

And she sighed, regretting the years she'd made him wait, remembering those moments when they came so close: their time on New Earth, the day she'd almost died in a shuttle accident, their moonlit sails on Lake George.

He'd always believed in something she'd always known, but could never acknowledge: she loved this man – had loved him for a long time.

She took his hand in hers and gently rested her head on his right shoulder, quietly began to speak, "Once, there was a woman warrior, who couldn't admit to needing someone until she met an angry warrior. He was brazen and brash and bold, and the woman warrior knew that she loved him from the moment he appeared on her bridge, bristling and bull-headed." Kathryn softly pressed a kiss to the smooth skin of Chakotay's chest, the residual heat warm against her lips. "The woman warrior was afraid to confess her feelings, but the angry warrior stayed by her side, learning the true meaning of peace as he taught the woman warrior the deeper meaning of love."

~vVv~


	7. Chapter 7

The moments after…

Tom caught her at the door, pressing gentle hands to her shoulders, stopping her forward motion. "The Doctor's got him, Kathryn. Let him work."

She looked over into his eyes, noticing the use of her first name. At times like these, Tom Paris didn't stand on protocol.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and brought her closer to the biobed, so she could at least see him. And Tom strengthened his hold on her when she began to tremble.

She could barely see Chakotay's face underneath the burns and the blood that stained his forehead. His uniform was singed and torn, shredded in some places, and the Doctor was busy cutting away what was left of it.

He looked up, acknowledged Kathryn with a glance, but didn't say anything to her. Instead, he spoke to Tom. "I need you, Mister Paris."

The younger man looked at her, and she managed a slight nod. He left her, standing in the middle of the room, and joined the Doctor at the biobed, began to work quickly at his side, taking Chakotay's torn clothing, tossing it to the floor, and handing over instruments as the Doctor called for them.

Kathryn stood there, watching, unaware of the passage of time, knowing only that the frenzied motion around the biobed continued: the Doctor issuing orders, Tom complying. The two of them working in tandem to save his life.

She didn't hear the sound of the Sickbay doors opening and closing behind her, but she felt a hand on her arm. Looking over, she found B'Elanna beside her.

"Report."

The word was automatic – a captain's duty to her ship and crew and a subconscious need to focus on something else.

B'Elanna blinked, surprised for a moment. Then understanding, she quickly supplied the information. "A power conduit malfunctioned, causing an overload. The explosion set off a chain reaction; several more conduits ignited and the bulkhead gave way between Shuttle Bays One and Two. I've got teams in both bays, checking the remaining conduits."

"Systemic?"

She shook her head. "It seems localized, but I've got teams throughout the deck as well."

Kathryn nodded, but didn't say anything more.

Ten minutes later, the movement on the other side of the room slowed, and the Doctor stepped over to them.

"He's stable. I've repaired the skull fracture and regenerated the second and third degree burns on his face, neck, and hands. The skin will be tender for a few days, but there won't be any scarring. There was some internal bleeding, but no organ damage. I've fused four fractured ribs and three broken bones in his left arm, and his left leg was crushed." The Doctor looked back over his shoulder where Tom was still working on Chakotay. "Mister Paris is prepping him for surgery. It's going to take some intricate handiwork to save that leg. Of course, there are prosthetic options, but I'd like to salvage as much of the natural leg as possible." He returned his gaze to the woman beside him. "Either way, he's going to make it, Captain, and he'll walk again."

Kathryn felt wetness on her cheeks as she released both the breath and the tears she'd been holding. "Thank you, Doctor," she said softly, focusing on the still form lying on the biobed. The relief washed over her, and she swayed slightly, feeling suddenly warm and lightheaded.

The Doctor grasped her shoulders, steadied her. "I suggest you go back to your quarters and get some rest."

Kathryn shook her head. "I'll be staying here."

He sighed. "Captain, this surgery could take several hours."

She pushed his hands away, straightened her back, fixed him with a steady gaze. "Tuvok has the bridge; you have Chakotay." Her voice and her resolve were firm. "I'll be staying here."

Knowing there would be no changing her mind, the Doctor acquiesced. "Mister Paris, get the captain a chair."

Kathryn felt B'Elanna's hand close tighter around her arm. "Make that two, Tom."

~vVv~


	8. Chapter 8

The moments before…

"Captain." Ensign Kim's voice came from the upper bridge. "I'm detecting some minor power fluctuations in Shuttle Bay Two."

Kathryn looked up over her shoulder at Harry.

"Source?"

He studied the panel in front of him. "Seems to be some power conduits between the bays."

Kathryn tapped her combadge. "Janeway to Torres, Ensign Kim's picking up some slight power fluctuations in Shuttle Bay Two."

"Yes, Captain," B'Elanna replied, "I've just now noticed that myself. I'm on my way to check it out."

"Very well." Kathryn glanced to her left. "I'll send Commander Chakotay to join you."

"Um… Yes, Captain." B'Elanna sounded slightly flustered. Checking out minor power fluctuations wasn't exactly a two-man task.

And Chakotay realized that, too, as he raised an eyebrow in Kathryn's direction. B'Elanna was more than capable of handling this on her own.

Seeing his confusion, she leaned towards him, lowered her voice. "You looked a little bored. I thought you might like some activity."

He managed to suppress a laugh, but he couldn't contain the dimpled grin that spread across his face. "It has been a slow day."

Kathryn lightly touched his arm. "I know it's not overly exciting, but think of it as an onboard away mission."

"That may take a little creative thinking, but I'll try." Chakotay pushed himself up from his chair and nodded. "Power fluctuations it is. I just hope the local inhabitants are friendly."

Kathryn laughed. "Let me know what you find."

"Aye-aye, Captain."

And she smiled as he left the bridge.

~vVv~


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** This is the beginning of the end…

* * *

The night before the moments of…

They were both guilty of bringing their work home, so, when they moved in together, they'd created a separate area for Chakotay: chair, desk, computer.

Equal ground in new territory.

And an utter waste of space, Kathryn thought as she looked across the room. He never worked there, preferring instead to sit in one of the cushioned chairs by the couch, bare feet propped on the coffee table, computer balanced against his knees.

Shifting her gaze to the sitting area, she saw that his head was leaning back, eyes closed. She couldn't remember the last time they'd spoken to each other. And at some point, between then and now, he'd dropped off. She glanced at the chronometer on her desk - almost 0100. The last time she'd checked had been over two hours ago, and they both had Alpha shift. At least his body had the good sense to fall asleep.

With a sigh, Kathryn shut off her computer, got up, and walked over to his chair. Kneeling down beside him, she gently rubbed her hand along his arm. She'd learned the first time they'd slept together that waking him too quickly wasn't the best thing to do. He'd lashed out, nearly toppling her from the bed. Probably immersed in nightmare battles with the Cardassians, his fight or flight instinct was a strong reaction.

"Hey," she said softly, rubbing his arm again. "Let's go to bed."

"Huh?" He was barely awake.

Carefully, she picked up his computer, glancing at the screen as she moved it to the coffee table. Quarterly crew evaluations - a war of its own.

Turning over onto his shoulder, he pulled his knees up toward his chest, settling deeper into the padded chair as he settled further into sleep.

Getting up, Kathryn took a blanket from the back of the couch, unfolded it, and draped it over him. She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, and he exhaled a heavy breath – somewhere between a yawn and a groan; she touched his face, light fingertips on his cheek.

And she smiled; her warrior was tired.

There would be battles to fight tomorrow. But for tonight, this chair was his last stand.

~The End~


End file.
